Gerry Thomas:Secwépemc Artisan, Knowledge Keeper & Master Basket Weaver

In the soft light of a winter morning, deep in the heart of his home, Secwépemc Knowledge Keeper Gerry Thomas sits in quiet ceremony. His hands, steady and weathered like old cedar, move with purpose. In this sacred space—his humble basement workshop—he brings to life a practice gifted by his ancestors: the weaving of cedar bark baskets.

The warmth of the wood stove hums, and a distant melody plays on the radio, but it is the ancestral songs carried in his spirit that truly guide him. 

As his hands braid the bark, he remembers the teachings of his grandmother Christine Allen and his mother, the late Elder Mary Thomas. Their voices live on in him, like whispers in the wind, telling stories not only of survival—but of deep reverence for the land, the seasons, and the sacred circle of life.

This is no mere craft. This is a sacred act of remembering.

Thousands of years ago, before the world was covered in roads and noise, the People—the Secwépemc—wove baskets with the same love and intention. Near the village of Pritchard, where the land still breathes the old songs, burial baskets have been found resting 15 to 20 feet beneath the Earth’s skin. 

Elders and archaeologists alike believe they are more than 8,000 years old. These baskets carried food, medicines, and sometimes, the bones of those returning to the Spirit World. Their very presence in the soil is proof: we have always been here.

Even as the world rushes forward, this sacred tradition remains. The materials are gathered with prayer—cedar roots and birchbark from the forest, cherry bark to bring the Earth’s color and song to the sides. Each element is alive. Each carries a spirit. Each must be treated with respect.
In the time of our ancestors, winter was for weaving. The kekulis—our winter homes dug into the earth—were warm sanctuaries shared by families of four to six. 

Outside, a smaller pit house kept the winter’s hunt and gathered roots safe. Inside, shelves held dried berries, fish, and dried meats—small offerings of nourishment for long nights spent storytelling and creating. While the cold winds howled above, inside, the heart of the people pulsed with life, laughter, and teachings.

“Summer is for gathering,” Gerry remembers his mother saying. “The Earth gives us what we need when we walk with care.”

The cedar roots used to stitch the baskets must be used the same year they are gathered. Their spirit is freshest then.

In late fall, the people would hunt the male moose and deer, always leaving the females to walk freely—to carry the future in their wombs. This too was ceremony. This too was respect. The hides became drums that spoke the heartbeat of the land, and clothing that kept the people warm in long winters.

All of it—basket, hide, root, drum—woven not only by hands, but by a way of seeing the world. A way that remembers all life is connected, all time is sacred, and every act done in respect is a prayer.
Gerry Thomas does not just make baskets. He listens to the land. He remembers. He teaches through doing.

And with every stitch of cedar, he honors the breath of the ones who came before.

We are honoured to have Gerry Thomas with us at the 2025 West Coast Indigenous Elders' Conference in Courtenay, British Columbia, May 27-29, 2025.